


Every Breath You Take

by thatsnotcutewendy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Detective Katsuki Yuuri, Detective Victor Nikiforov, F/M, Female Yuri Plisetsky, Female!Yuri, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Otabek Altin - Freeform, Otabek wants to kill Yuri at the start, Psychopath!Otabek, TEOTFW AU, They fall in love though, Top Otabek Altin, Violence, Yuri Plisetsky - Freeform, Yuri Plisetsky Swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsnotcutewendy/pseuds/thatsnotcutewendy
Summary: Otabek is convinced he's a psychopath, he takes joy in killing animals and wants to kill something bigger. He meets Yuri, a girl who isn't like the rest, she's different, she swears at everyone she meets, she's perfect. He's going to kill her.~The End of The F***ing World AU, not necessary to have watched the TV show but I recommend it, it's really great!





	1. Episode One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really wanted a TEOTFW x Yuri On Ice crossover to exist, but, alas, it doesn't so I've decided to write one myself. I thought their characters really fit James and Alyssa, Otabek being quiet and brooding (but not quite a psychopath) and Yuri being loud and boisterous. Really want to write female! Yuri so I did, if you really hate it comment so I know; I can change it maybe! Not marked as underage as the age of consent is 16 in the UK (Yuri is 17 in this fic, Otabek almost 18). There's no explicit sex anyway. There will be violence (animals and humans being killed) and attempted rape, so if that's something you really don't like then don't read! A lot of lines of dialogue and thought tracks will be taken directly from the show. Disclaimer: I don't own either The End of the F***ing World or Yuri!! On Ice and don't claim to! These aren't my ideas or plot lines, I just wanted to see my favourite characters in a situation like James and Alyssa's. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

I'm Otabek. I'm seventeen.

And I'm pretty sure I'm a psychopath.

I was eight when I realised I didn't have a sense of humour, my dad and I sat at the dining table, the white wallpaper was peeling from the walls and revealing an ugly floral design underneath.

"Why doesn't the queen wave with this hand?" he asked, gesturing with his left hand, elbows on the table.

My dad, he was an ageing man with nothing to keep him occupied since mum left. He missed Kazakhstan, but refused to go back there since he didn't want to 'uproot' me from a 'stable environment'. He doesn't know that I know the exact reason why he refused to leave this country.

I looked blankly at him.

"'Cause it's my hand!" he laughed.

I always wanted to punch my dad in the face.

When I was nine he bought a deep fat fryer. I remember him; sitting on the sofa, watching an American shopping channel and becoming convinced he simply had to have one.

One day I put my hand in it.

The pain was excruciating, especially for a nine year old who had been sheltered from everything ever since *she* left. But, I liked it. It made me feel something.

When I was fifteen I put my neighbour's cat and took it into the woods. I had taken left over chicken from the fridge and enticed it out from under the fence.

It probably had a name.

Slitting it's throat with the hunting knife my dad had given me for my thirteenth birthday was the most powerful I had ever felt. The capability to end a life enthralled but the curiosity wasn't satisfied, instead it intensified and I wanted more.

After that, I killed more animals. And I remember every single one.

Three rabbits I had saved my measly £4.50 an hour job to buy at a pet shop, a guinea pig, two pigeons, eight rats plucked from the gutter, six butterflies, four beetles, four chicks I smuggled into my rucksack on a school trip, a bat, and a hedgehog.

School was beneath me. But it was a good place for observation and selection.

Because I had a plan. I was going to kill something bigger.

Much bigger.

It was just a mundane day when she approached, just another day surrounded by living, breathing bodies with so much potential and so much potential to crush. Her complexion was light and pristine, neck flawlessly unmarred, hair blindingly blonde, so much possibility.

I took my headphones off.

"Hey," I said.

"I've seen you skating," she looked down at me.

My eyes twitched.

"You're pretty shit."

~ Yuri ~

I get these moments when I have to lie down because everything feels sort of too much. And I look up, and see the blue, or the grey, or the black, and I feel myself melting into it. And, for like, a split second I feel free. And happy. Innocent. Like a dog, or an alien, or a baby.

But then that blue is gone, a mother shaped shadow falls over me and I realise I'm not a dog, an alien, or a baby, I'm in the garden laying on the grass when I should be helping my Mum get the house ready for a stupid party she's having.

"Your presence is required young lady,"

I sigh.

"Why are you talking like Downton Abbey?" I reply.

"Just get inside and help," she spits.

I sigh again, retreating back into the house.

My mum used to be nice and then she got divorced from my dad, and met... Tony. Last week he said he thought I needed a bigger bra, so I threw a chicken kiev at his head. Mum pretended that she hadn't heard him. And now she has the perfect house and the perfect garden and the perfect neighbourhood and the perfect twins.

As she hands one to me, I think, their heads do smell nice though, it's true.

I haven't seen my dad since I was eight. He didn't fit in, he couldn't settle, so he had to leave. I don't blame him, but he sends me a card without fail every single birthday. I understand actually. I don't trust people who fit in.

School's like that, full of people who fit in. I'm sat at a table at lunch, looking at the people around me staring at their phones, the sounds of keyboard clicks filling my ears. My phone goes off. It's a message from a girl sat opposite me, I pick up my phone and direct it towards her.

"Is this from you?" I ask.

She looks up.

"What?" she asks.

"What the fuck?"

"*What*?" she asks again.

"I'm here. I'm *literally* here."

"It's free." she scoffs.

I stand up in anger, phone in hand and smash it as hard as I can against the table. I pick up my bag and walk away, leaving bits of shattered phone in my wake.

I see him from across the room.

I'm not saying he's the answer, but he's something.

I stand in front of him, waiting for him to look up.

"Hey,"

"Hey," he responds.

"I've seen you skating,"

I haven't.

"You're pretty shit,"

"Fuck off," he says pointedly.

~ Otabek ~

Yuri was new. She'd started that term. I thought she could be interesting to kill.

The bell rang.

After lessons, I found myself sitting on a bench; observing.

She approached again.

"Were you waiting for me?" 

So I pretended to fall in love with her.

She kissed me, her mouth clumsy and tongue eager, mine cold, unreciprocating. She took my hand that was placed on my knee and put it on her breast.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Shut up."

She kissed me again.

As we walked that day, my skateboard under one arm, unused since she insisted I walk her home. The roads were very uneventful at three thirty in the evening, there was no reason for me to accompany her.

"I haven't got a phone," she announced.

"Okay."

"I smashed it,"

I nodded. "Okay."

"Like, on purpose,"

"Okay."

"So you can't call me,"

"Okay."

I saw her roll her eyes.

"I don't have a phone either, " I gave in.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I hate them." I did.

I knew that people in love went out on dates.

"Do you wanna go out on a date?" I asked, "with me."

She said yes.

We sat in 'one of the best American dining experiences in the South of England' as was claimed on the menu, opposite each other. The place was tacky but she liked it at first. I think.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" the ageing waitress asked.

"Is this true?" Yuri asked, referring to the bold statement on the menu.

The waitress clearly read it, before exclaiming a mildly confident "Yeah," and nodded.

"Can I take your orders?"

"Uh-" I began.

"I will have a banana split, with extra cherries; some blueberry pancakes, and a hot chocolate with cream-"

"You're hungry!" the waitress laughed.

Yuri laughed, mocking her, "-and an extra fucking spoon."

"Excuse me?"

"For him?" Yuri looked at me.

I looked up at the waitress again.

"Okay sorry, you can't use language like that or else I'm going to have to ask you and your... boyfriend to leave,"

I looked at Yuri. She shrugged.

"Okay," she started, "okay I'm sorry. Sorry."

She huffed.

"I will have a great big banana shit, with extra fucking cherries-"

"Okay sorry that's it, Marvin!" the waitress shouted.

"Oh yeah, go get *Marvin*, see if *Marvin* can make a banana split for me, you fuckin' cunt!"

The waitress was flabbergasted. 

Yuri moved to get up, I watched her movements and took that as a signal that she was leaving.

"Bye Marvin!"

It seemed that Yuri had some issues.

I shuffled out of my seat awkwardly, grabbing my skateboard as I followed after her.

We were back walking on the road, her a few paces ahead of me.

"I think we live in the most boring town on the planet,"

"Yeah. Maybe," I agreed.

"Everyone's so fucking square,"

"Well. They've got money, they feel safe."

She stopped.

"Are you boring too?"

"No." I said, as an old woman walking slowly, her back hunched passed us.

"She's the only cool person in this town," Yuri said.

"Her?" I said, looking over.

"Yeah. She's done stuff. She's probably a spy, and had like, fifteen abortions when it was illegal or something. She has lived."

"Really?"

"Whatever," she continued walking, "can we go to your house?"

I imagined her, life seeping out of her figure from every pore, blood coating her face, her clothes and caked under my fingernails. I imagined the way she would look at me as she took her last breath, and I imagined what it would be like to take it from her.

"Yeah. Sure," I replied.

As we approached my house, Yuri asked, "why do you live in such a weird house?"

"I don't know."

"It has too many windows,"

"Maybe."

I let her in, watching her take in her surroundings, slightly intimidated, before instantly gaining her usual demeanour back and confidently walking into the living room.

She threw her bag on the sofa, before going to the mantelpiece and inspecting the photos, carelessly picking up a photograph that I knew all too well.

"Is that your mum?"

"Yeah. She lives in Japan."

"Cool. You look like her."

The comment tastes rancid, she is so ignorant, innocent, she doesn't know a thing about my mother. But yet, it feels good, being told I resemble her. It makes me proud of her.

We sit out on the chair swing that hasn't been used for years, my father and I avoiding it like the plague after what happened.

"This is pretty retro."

"I don't like it," I reply.

"Why not?"

My mind goes to me, aged six, the chair swinging in the summer breeze, my head in my mother's lap, looking up at her, her looking down at me, her fingers combing through my dark hair.

"I just don't."

She put her hand on the inside of my thigh, close to my crotch.

Yuri was kind of a nymphomaniac.

She's making toast in my kitchen, I'm sat at the same chair, at the same dining table, in the same room with the same peeling wallpaper as I always have. With her back to me, I again imagine what it would like to kill her. Her blood, still warm, coating my hands and my knife.

She turns around, "what?"

I didn't realise I was staring.

I hear the front door shut.

"Oh no," I say quietly.

My dad's now sat at the dining table with us, beer in hand, which he exclaims 'cheers!' with and attempts to bash it against Yuri's toast.

"Well, this is nice,"

"What is?" Yuri asks, looking at him.

"This! You two!" he hits my shoulder.

"What a relief!" he laughs, "I tell you what, I've never been sure if he even..."

He makes a gesture with his hand, looking at Yuri. "Always thought there was something wrong with him!"

I actually masturbated once a week for medical purposes. I knew it wasn't good to let things build up.

"I thought, probably he was gay," he started, "which is- that's fine, like, obviously, but uh, here you are!"

Yuri looked blankly at him. "Maybe I'm gay."

There was a silence.

"Maybe he's asexual," Yuri said, through a mouthful of toast, "we're dealing with a really broad spectrum these days."

Yuri left.

We were sitting on the roof, looking out over the wealthy suburban houses with most likely, wealthy suburban families living in them when Yuri spoke again.

"Well, your dad's a prick."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes I feel like punching him in the face."

"You should definitely do that."

A silence.

"Have you ever eaten a pussy before?" Yuri calmly blurted.

It was important to be confident in moments like this.

"Yeah, a few."

"I want you to eat mine."

This is *not* what I had imagined.

"Now?" I asked.

We looked at each other.

"Tomorrow," she suggested, "I'll be here at eleven."

The next day, I sat on the sofa, hunting knife in one hand, quivering with anticipation. The night before was filled with fantasies, Yuri tied up, helpless, Yuri covered in her own blood, Yuri clinging onto the last threads of her life as it slipped away from her.

I was ready at eleven.

Actually, I was ready at ten.

It was important to work out the exact logistics beforehand. Trying to find the right place for my knife under the cushions, easily reachable but just as easily concealed.

At twelve, I was starting to think she might not be coming.

~ Yuri ~

Sometimes I worry that I ruin things. But, I feel, I don't know. I feel comfortable with him. Sort of safe. 

I'm inspecting myself in the landing's mirror, pulling my eyelids when I see the reflection of my mum coming up the stairs, holding clothes, wearing a dress.

"What?"

"Put these on and come downstairs!"

"What?"

"The party!"

"No way, I told you, I'm going out."

I made an attempt to walk past her.

"I am not having his argument again Yuri."

"Mum, there's *no way*!"

I tried to leave, but she stopped me again.

"Please love, I want you to be there; for me,"

I looked up at her, into her eyes and couldn't help but see the woman that treated me so well all those years ago, reluctantly, I took the clothes, retreating to my bedroom to get changed.

I stood in the garden with a tray of canapés in one hand, feeding myself with the other. I watched the dull, middle class men and women mingle, likely talking about some bullshit like their latest endeavour into charity work, or the amazing job their son had gotten, which you just *had* to hear about.

My people watching was interrupted by my mum, harshly whispering in my ear, "those aren't for you, hand them around,"

I rolled my eyes, but listened to her plea.

Back in the safety of the kitchen, I slammed the fridge door, only to find Tony behind it.

Not safe.

"You alright?" he asked, two bottles of beer in his hand.

"Here. Have a beer. Chill out." he said, offering out the drink to me and becoming uncomfortably close.

I took it anyway, "thanks Tone."

I walked, putting my hands on the counter and looking out into the garden.

"This is bullshit, your life is bullshit."

"Well if you hate it so much, leave," he replied, walking closer.

"I'm serious! Do us all a favour," he laughed.

I felt his disgusting eyes on my body, and saw him watching my form, looking at my ass.

"You look good when you make a bit of an effort, don't you?"

His hand rested on the small of my back, I felt his wedding ring dig into my skin through my clothes, he squeezed and then left. 

Disgusting.

I turn around to see my mum in the doorway. She avoids my eyes, instead choosing to look at the floor, seemingly ashamed. She ignores what just happened, like I knew she would.

Sometimes, everything is suddenly really simple. It's like everything shifts in a moment. And you step out of your body, out of your life.

You step out, and you see where you are, really clearly. You see yourself and you think, '*fuck this shit.*'

So I left.

I banged on his door, shouting, "Otabek!" Through the glass.

He opens the door, I strip off my t-shirt as soon as I step through into his hallway.

I think being angry and sad at the same time really turns me on.

I went to sit on his sofa, "come here."

I feel the sofa dip as he sits next to me.

I kinda think I could fall in love with him. Also, he has a car.

~ Otabek ~

With her next to me, I put one hand under the cushions to reach for the knife I knew was secure and hidden.

I wondered if it would be easier to slit her throat if I flipped her round. Would it be better not to see her face- but then, the angle. It was a conundrum. 

She sat up.

"What?" I asked, my hand still gripped around the handle of my hunting knife.

"Let's get out of here,"

"What?"

"I'm serious, let's leave this shit hole town; now," she exclaimed, "you hate it, I hate it, our parents are dick heads, you've got a car."

"It's my dad's."

"Who's a *dickhead*!"

"I'm going whether you come with me or not, you in?"

I looked over at her, my hand loosening it's grip around the knife and returning to my knee.

I figured, I wasn't in a rush.

"Yeah alright."

Yuri got up, retrieving her t-shirt and storming to the front door. I quickly grabbed my hunting knife from under the cushions, putting it in my back pocket. I would need it. I followed her out.

As I opened the front door, my dad was returning home with takeaway in his hand. I couldn't take it, all that anger over him and my mother had just pent up and now an opportunity presented itself to me, I couldn't pass it by.

I punched him in the face.

I don't know where we were going or when I was going to kill her, but I punched my dad in the face and stole his car. And that felt like a good place to start.

We got in the car and left. Just left. And as the streets that I had grown up in passed us by through the windows, I couldn't help but feel oddly free.

"Are you scared?" Yuri asked.

"I dunno, a bit, maybe."

"I'm not." she said confidently.

She probably should've been.


	2. Episode Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over two months since I posted the first chapter but I'm back! I've had exams recently and just generally been busy, however hopefully soon I should have a more regular update schedule. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a bit longer than the first to hopefully make up for my absence. Comments and kudos are appreciated! Enjoy!

As I saw my father’s car; his prized possession bracketed by a tree, smoke pouring out of the bonnet I couldn’t help but worry. Yes, he is a twat, and yes, indeed punching him in the face gave me this amazing feeling of euphoria you certainly shouldn’t get from punching a parent, my irritatingly human brain couldn’t help but tell me how much he _loved_ that car.

 

But then, things didn’t always go entirely to plan on my journey with Yuri.

 

“Do you think it’s going to explode?” I asked.

 

“It’s not a film,” Yuri remarked, vaguely mocking me.

 

~ **Three hours earlier** ~

 

We were driving, or shall I say I was driving, Yuri simply having opened the sun roof and emerging from it, whooping in ‘freedom’ and waving her hands in the air as the wind blew her blonde hair from her face.

 

I kept wondering what sort of sound she’d make when I killed her. Her mouth, like now, creating sounds of glee; but unlike now, because her mouth would wrap around screams of pain, her own crimson blood covering her pale face, almost comically.

 

But I couldn’t think of that too much, her having deciding she was bored of hanging out of the sunroof like an oversized dog and ungracefully coming back into the car.

 

I needed to find somewhere quiet.

 

“Guess what freedom smells like?”

 

“What?” I replied.

 

“Cow shit,” she answered bluntly, with an odd almost smug smirk on her face as she looked at me.

 

“Seatbelt?”

 

“Fuck seatbelts!” she looked around, “so, what d’you wanna do?”

 

She looked at me.

 

“Don’t know.”

 

“Because, we can literally do _anything_ , Otabek,” she smiled at me again, “anything we want.”

 

To be honest with you, laser quest was not on the top of my list of priorities, but Yuri seemed to think otherwise and seemed to find great joy in dragging me into shooting eleven year olds with ‘lasers’. It was dark and neon lights were strung everywhere, assumingly to make the experience even the more ‘fun’.

 

“Die! Die! Die!” I heard Yuri shout at an eight year old boy.

 

Ironically, I was not in my element.

 

And suddenly Yuri burst out at me, like a storm of pale hair and cord jacket, shooting me as she insisted we be on different teams. I shuffled awkwardly as my ‘gun’ shrieked repeatedly, and noticed her beginning to get irritated.

 

“Come on!” she shouted, “this is shit.”

 

So she took me to a corner of the map, having given up any semblance of interest in the game. Her white t-shirt glowed under the UV lights.

 

“Put your tongue in my ear.” she demanded.

 

“What?”

 

“I like it,” she tucked her hair back and almost presented her ear to me.

 

I did it, and she giggled.

 

“Right, stop that now,” I heard through a loudspeaker.

 

Oh, that’s why.

 

So she stormed out, chucking her gear on the floor in the changing room.

 

“Sorry,” I apologised to a member of staff.

 

Yuri was really good at annoying people.

 

And so she took us to a restaurant, having insisting that she could order for me, but ended up getting us both the same portion of chips and hot dog anyway. She had devoured almost all of hers, but mine was left mostly untouched. She was so small and it shocked me that she could even consume that much food.

 

“Thank god I smashed my phone,” she remarked, through eating, “bet my mum’s been calling

non-stop; stupid bitch.”

She stopped eating, “how long ‘till your dad calls the police?”

 

I looked at her. “What?”

 

“About the car,”  


I shook my head, “he won’t.”

 

“Really?”  


“Yeah. He’ll think I’m coming home soon. He’s a prick and everything; but he’s pretty optimistic.”

 

I looked off into the corner of the restaurant.

 

“What?” Yuri asked.

 

“What?”

 

“I like food,” she shrugged.

 

“Okay?”

 

The waiter came with the bill not long after. Yuri smiled up at him before she had this look of shock on her face. She leant forward, lowering her voice.

 

“Did you bring money with you?”

 

“Didn’t you?” I countered.

 

“Yeah, I just spent it at laser-kill,”

 

“That was all your money.” I definitely wasn’t panicking.

 

“I didn’t _have_ to pay for you, I was being fucking polite actually,”

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

“Well, it’s just food, and we haven’t eaten _all_ of it. You haven’t.”

 

“The only rule with these things is that you never steal from a small, independent business.” she sounded as if she was reciting from a book.

 

“Whose rule is that?” I asked.

“My dad’s. He’s basically Robin Hood. He breaks the law and stuff but he’s really moral,”

 

Of course.

 

“Places like this are all run by the man,” she started again.

 

“What man?”

 

“The _man_ man,” she started, “the man who; y’know; owns all the oil, forces Chinese children to make smartphones and hates Palestine.”

 

I looked around.

 

“Are you gonna be a pussy?”

 

I was sure that not going to prison was better than being a pussy, but showing willing was the best approach with Yuri.

 

“No,” I took a bite of a chip and got up from my chair.

 

As I walked out from the restaurant towards the stolen car, leaving behind stolen food, Yuri running behind me I almost thought it was nice. Being ‘free’, as she put it, going against the rules in public was really not my forte but it felt good.

 

We were back in the car and driving, still on the high of our little crime when Yuri looked at me, a smile on her face and said, “nice one.”

 

I couldn’t help but smile, unable to stop myself from catching her delight.

 

“Seatbelt!” she reminded me, mocking.

 

“ _Fuck_ seatbelts,”

 

As I saw her grin back at me, I couldn’t help but think I had her right where I wanted her.

 

Then she suddenly said, “we should have sex.”

 

Oh.

 

“What, now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Take your top off,” she demanded, looking at me expectantly.

 

“Uh...Okay,”

 

I had to go along with it, so I started to unbutton the shirt I was wearing.

 

“Should we- should we stop?” I asked, trying not to show my nervousness and failing.

 

“No! Keep driving,”

 

As I took my top off I thought about how I wasn’t sure sex _was_ something you could just go along with. Especially not as a man. What came to mind to me was my dad’s words from a few years back.

 

“It’s okay for women, they can just lie back, think of England. Us men, we have to _be_ England.”

 

He was such a prick.

 

That was what was going through my head as I felt Yuri helping me get undressed, my “stop, I think I’m stuck” going unheard by her. Her giggles and my father’s words were all that were in my head when I felt a harsh _jolt_ and the car stopped.

 

We had hit a tree.

 

I fucking panicked, because this couldn’t happen, not so soon, not now, not when we’d only just started, not to the car that my prick of a dad _loved_. Yuri’s laughs were not helping towards that matter; either.

 

“Shit,” I gasped, “why are you laughing?”

 

“My dad _loves_ this car. It’s the most expensive thing he’s _ever_ bought,”

 

She continued to laugh, only stopping when I took the keys out of the ignition, pausing to look up at me.

 

And there we were, standing in front of the car, wrapped around a tree, smoke pouring from the bonnet.

 

“What the fuck are we gonna do now?” Yuri asked.

 

“Do you think it’s going to explode?”

 

“It’s not a film,” she responded, turning around and beginning to walk away from the wreck.

“Come on,” she said.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Well we can’t _drive_ it, can we?”

 

I spoke quickly, “well we can’t just leave it here I might be able to fix it-”

 

I heard a _bang_ and we both whipped our heads back.

 

The car _fucking_ exploded.

 

“D’you reckon you could still fix it?” Yuri remarked.

 

I looked at her, and at the wreck that was my dad’s car, which was now literally _on fire_ and couldn’t help but wonder _how_ _on earth_ I got myself into this situation.

 

“What should we do?” I asked, “do you want to go home?”

 

“Are you saying that you wanna go home?” she continued, “ because that’s _fine_ ; you can if you want-”

 

“No, I don’t want to, I was just asking if you wanted to,” I interrupted her.

 

“I don’t wanna go home Otabek!”

 

“But-”

 

“I don’t want to _go home_!”

 

“So what do you want to do?” I asked her.

 

“I don’t know, why don’t you fucking think of something for _once_!”

 

As she spun on her heel and turned to walk away I thought about the way I would grip the knife in my right hand. Firm, but not too tight. I thought about how her warm blood would cover it, painting my hand and blade crimson.

 

But, I couldn’t have done it there. The car would’ve linked me to the crime.

 

Yuri insisted we continue on our journey and hitchhike, so there we were, walking through the empty forest (which hopefully wouldn’t burn down due to the state of Dad’s car), twigs crunching under my every step, Yuri following closely behind. Looking for the main road didn’t take long, soon enough we were emerging from the trees to be hit with bright sunlight from above. I volunteered to stand on the side of the road with my thumb out.

 

“Why is no one stopping?” I asked Yuri (who was stood under the shade of the trees) as yet another car drove past.

 

“Probably because you’ve got your tits out?”

 

I was once again reminded of my half-dressed state, having left my shirt in the car. Well, I say shirt, as now it was probably just a pile of ashes.

 

“I’m serious, no one stops for _weirdos_ except _other weirdos,_ and you look like a proper day release!” she continued.

 

Apparently we got lucky, as the next car that drove past started to indicate and slowed to a stop beside us. The window rolled down.

 

“Y’alright?” a middle aged man asked, wearing a green jumper.

 

“Hi,” I responded.

 

“I’m headin’ down South, son, if it’s any good t’you,”

 

I looked back at Yuri, who was shaking her head; trying to avoid any eye contact with the man. She looked very apprehensive for the one that insisted we hitchhike in the first place.

 

“D’you wanna lift or not?” he asked as I turned back around.

 

“Yeah, thanks,”

 

“C’mon then,”

 

“Come on,” I called back to Yuri, “come on!”

 

I held open the back door for her, looking encouragingly at her and at the seat.

 

“I am gonna be so _fucked off_ if we get murdered,” she said, sitting down.

 

I shut the back door and got into the front of the car as the man began to drive.

 

After a few seconds of silence I looked back at Yuri as the driver began to speak.

 

“Grab us that sweater in the back there love, chuck it down to your boyfriend,”

“Who said he’s my boyfriend?” Yuri responded.

 

Yuri was starting to test my patience. Again, my mind filled with the imagery of her warm blood running down my arm, staining my clothes and trickling down between my fingers.

 

“You alright love?” he asked Yuri, who simply ignored him, looking anywhere else.

 

“Is she alright, son?” he directed this question to me.

 

“ _She’s_ fine.” Yuri snarkily responded.

 

“You’re funny; you, I like you.”

 

Wanting to change the conversation, I looked around for something to comment on when I noticed a picture of a black dog taped to the centre console.

 

“Is that your dog?”

 

“Nearly, I’m buyin’ her,” he continued, “she’s cute though, aint she?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Not for long, mind, she’s a cane corso.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Number twenty-three on the ‘twenty-five most dangerous dog’ list, for fighting.” he stated.

 

“They expensive?”

 

“Just a bit.”

 

“You know your car smells like feet,” Yuri interjected.

 

He chuckled, “one of the lads had a couple in Fallujah. They’re lethal,”

 

“You were in the army?” I asked.

 

“Five years,”

 

“Cool.”

 

“So tell me then, what you two been up two, eh?”

Neither one of us responded.

 

“Come on, I ain’t gonna say anything, what’s the matter with ya?”

 

“We haven’t done anything,” I lied.

 

He laughs. “Sure,” he continues, “I couldn’t give a fuck either way, I’m just making conversation, I’m not a fucking _copper_ ,”

 

I looked at him.

 

“I just thought, you know, you might wanna make a phone call to your mum or something, let her know you’re okay.”

 

“My mum’s dead actually.”

 

I told Yuri she was in Japan, so I can only imagine this is news to her, she looks stunned but she would’ve learnt the truth one way or another, so it doesn’t bother me. We’re in his car, driving through motorways and country lanes, I watch trees, then traffic lights blur past the window. He tries to fill the silence with pointless chatter and more insinuations and Yuri shuts him down continuously. After about an hour or so he announces he’s hungry and turns the car into a small cafe, which boasts its ‘open all day’ state, presumably for lorry drivers.

 

He’s gone off to get something to eat, and I decided to wear the jumper he offered me because public nudity really wasn’t my forte. Yuri and I are sat opposite each other in a booth, her piercing eyes seem to be looking through me, not really at me.

 

“I thought you said your mum was in Japan?” she breaks the silence.

 

“So?”

 

“So it’s a bit different from being _dead_ , isn’t it?” and when I didn’t answer, she continued with “this guys a prick.”

 

“What?”

 

She sighs. “He’s like, the worst kind of person.”

 

“He’s alright,” I replied.

 

“ _Why_ are you defending him? He’s a murderer.”

 

I thought that was a bit ironic.

“What?”

 

“He was in the army. He’s _murdered_ people,” she states, “and now he’s buying a dog to _murder_ other dogs with.”

 

I was watching the rain trickle down the window, trying not to look into Yuri’s eyes, when he returned with a tray of tea for me and hot chocolate for Yuri.

 

Yuri instantly looks away when he speaks, “here you go.”

 

“Thanks,” I replied.

 

Yuri leans forward in her seat, her arms crossed against her chest and reaches for the brown wallet that the man has resting on the tray. She scrutinises it with that piercing gaze of hers, and asks “is that your family?” before dropping the wallet again.

 

When it returns to the table, I see a picture, of a woman, presumably his wife, along with a young girl with blonde hair and a baby.

 

He uses his spoon to point at the photograph. “That’s the missus, Liz,”

He points at the girl with blonde hair, “Abi.” And finally at ‘baby Jack’.

 

“Jack looks like a potato,” Yuri states tactlessly.

 

“You what, love?”

 

“Joke!” Yuri laughs, almost scoffing, “joking.”

 

I know she’s about to add another comment when she again, picks up the wallet and looks at it, vaguely interested, “he looks like a ham.”

 

When no one replies, she filled the silence with an excited “he _does_ though, doesn’t he?” and holds the photograph up next to her face.

 

The silence is uncomfortable, and I use the little that I have learnt from my dad, that _no one likes an awkward pause_ , so I break it with a “no.”

 

This clearly annoys Yuri, as the next thing she says after dropping the picture in distaste is “you guys are so fucking _boring_.”

 

She gets out of her chair and looks at me and shakes her head, I watch her go, with her back turned to me I almost want her to return, because she knows I am not good with people.

 

“Sorry,” I say after she’s left.

 

“Don’t be daft, son.”

 

He continues, “she’s a bit full on isn’t she? _The bird.”_

 

A part of me almost resents the way he refers to her as that, but a larger part of me hates conflict and just _goes along_ with things.

 

“Oh… Yeah, she can be.”

 

“Well,” he says, looking at me in the eye, “thats women, eh?”

 

I nod, because it’s easier to agree. And I am suddenly reminded.

 

“What was it like?” I ask quickly, “in the army.”

 

He shrugs, “ah, it was alright, you know.”

 

I’ve always thought the army could be the place for someone like me, someone who enjoys snuffing out life and the army seemed like a perfect place to do that, without _getting caught_.

 

“Did you kill people?”

 

“It’s part of the job, son.”

 

“How many?”

 

He shrugs again, “well, it would be a bit sick to keep count, wouldn’t it?”

 

I’d have definitely kept count.

 

Then I feel the need to break the silence again, as I say “I’m gonna-go to the-” I don’t get the chance to say toilet before he interrupts me.

 

“Oh yeah sure, sure”, he responds, getting up so I can get out of the booth.

 

As I start to walk off I hear him speak again.

 

“I say, son. I might as well join you. Put one in the bag, you know,”

And he follows me into the toilet, which isn’t disgustingly dirty but certainly isn’t clean either. The urinal is silver and long, and he stands a couple feet away from me, in silence.

He looks down at me. At my hand.

 

“What happened to your hand?” he breaks the silence.

 

When I don’t answer, he takes a side-step closer to me, and is now stood right next to me, our shoulders almost touching. He won’t stop looking intently _down_.

 

He wraps his fingers around my wrist and I am not expecting it, he brings my hand up into the air between us and closer to his face. He brings it to his lips, inspecting it and kisses it gently. I look at the wall. I do not want to look anywhere else.

 

Because sometimes I just… _let things happen_.

 

My hand is brought downwards.

 

_Even though I didn’t want them to._

 

He uses his hand to wrap my fingers around his cock.

 

_I’m not sure why._

 

And suddenly I hear Yuri’s voice.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

He breaks apart from me instantly, tucking himself back into his trousers, a look of guilt from being _caught_ on his face. I do the same, and it’s almost as if _I’m_ the one who’s done something wrong.

 

“Are you gay?” she asks.

 

I shake my head, and say “no,” because I’m really _not_.

 

“It’s okay if you are.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“But you should _tell me_ if you are!”

 

“I’m- I’m not gay-”

 

“So what are you doing?”

 

What _am_ I doing? That’s a good question.

 

The man, who I had almost forgotten about moves to leave out of the dingy bathroom with his head down and hands in his pockets. Yuri doesn’t like that.

 

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” and for a skinny girl of 5”2 she is quite imposing, actually.

 

“Well I… gotta go. The dog’s not gonna collect herself, is she?”

 

“Give me your wallet.”

 

“You what?” he states.

 

“Give me your wallet.”

 

“No, no-”

 

“ _Give me_ your wallet, or I swear to _fuck_ I’ll go visit Liz and Abi, and your weird potato baby, and tell them what you like to do with teenage boys in toilets!”

 

“You wouldn’t do that,” he says.

 

“I’ll tell the _police_ , too”

 

After a moment, I think he realised he had been bested by Yuri, and with a look of defeat on his face he begrudgingly took that same brown wallet out of his back pocket again. Yuri held her hand out, and as he aggressively gave it to her, he left, the door to the toilet swinging shut behind him.

 

Yuri insisted we wait a few minutes to be on the safe side, make sure he didn’t change his mind but I knew he would be long gone when we stepped out of the toilet, out of the cafe and into the night. We sat on a picnic bench, the light from inside the cafe making Yuri’s face visible and the amount of recently acquired cash she was going through visible as well. She put the large wad of cash into her pocket, and threw the wallet onto the ground, and for that I was glad.

 

And in the quietness, I felt this need to _explain myself_ to her, which was a weird sensation, considering I did not usually care what people thought about me.

 

“He put my hand there.”

 

“You know that if people wanna do stuff to you, you don’t have to let them.”

 

“Yeah.”

“ _Do_ you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “So _why_ did you?”

 

I didn’t respond.

 

“Did something bad happen to you when you were small?”

 

And yes, lots of _bad things_ happened to me when I was small, but I didn’t want to think about them here, not now, not with Yuri, her features lit up by the dim light, next to me.

 

“No.”

 

“I’m tired,” she said, standing up, and I watched the place where she was sat moments ago.

 

~ **Yuri** ~

 

Nothing was in my mind, except that fucking _pig_ of an old pedo, and what he did to Otabek. What makes people think they have the right do to that? Especially not to him, especially when he can’t stand up for himself, and _especially_ when I’m not there. I barely pushed those thoughts out of my mind as we stood in front of the hotel clerk. I was worried about money, but I guess there was one thing that _man_ was good for.

 

She was blonde, wearing some stupid tacky uniform that blended in with the stupid tacky hotel, looking between me and Otabek suspiciously.

 

“A _double_ room?

 

“Yup,” I replied, “a _double_ room, with a _double_ bed, for _double_ sex.”

 

She must’ve relented at some point, because we were given a set of keys, but all I could think of was how I _really needed_ _to cry_.

 

The hotel room was unassuming, nothing special, with the promised double bed, however I really was not too sure about the double sex part. We laid there in silence, next to each other, fully clothed but I felt the need to break the silence, because I was fucking _suffocating_.

 

“D’you wanna watch TV?”

 

“Okay.”

 

I really wished he’d stop saying that.

 

I left him the job of getting the remote and turning the television on.

 

“Find some porn,” I said, just as the start of salty tears were beginning to rise from my eyes.

 

I don’t really _know_ why I asked for that. Maybe something loud, something that would _distract_ him from _me_ . I wasn’t paying attention to whatever slut was on the screen, all I could think about was how I really wanted to be alone. I didn’t want him to see me cry, to see deep down I was _scared_. And so I left.

 

“Where are you going?” Otabek asked as I got up.

 

“Toilet.”

 

I was well acquainted with this, sat on a closed toilet seat, alone, _crying_. Except I was usually at home, the unfamiliar walls of the hotel bathroom were not comforting and I was reminded again of how scared I was.

 

Warm tears would not stop trickling from my eyes, running down my cheeks and sliding off my jaw. I didn’t really notice, though. I couldn’t stop thinking, about my Mum, if she would be worried, if she was even thinking about me, if she was even allowed to with my step dad there. I thought about my Dad, my real dad, and how he would probably be ashamed to see me this _weak_ . He didn’t raise me to _cry_ in fucking hotel toilets, with a boy I met a few days ago in the next room. Otabek. I thought about Otabek. What he would be doing in the room over. Lying there, staring at the wall probably. I was reminded of the need to go back there, this was becoming a very long ‘piss’. My eyes would be red, but he’d probably assume I was doing crack or _some shit like that_. I know I would.

 

He was exactly where I expected him to be. Unmoved, hands in his lap, staring at seemingly nothing.

 

“You all right?” he asked me.

 

“I’m going to the vending machine.”

 

If the ‘vending machine’ was otherwise known as a ‘phone box’, I’d be telling the truth. I couldn’t help it, the want to hear her voice, my mother, just as confirmation that she was actually _thinking_ about me.

 

The phone rung. I knew she’d be clearing the table by now, she’d stick to her routine, or she’d be caring for the twins. The phone rung, but _he_ picked up.

 

“Hello?” I heard his voice through the dinny speaker.

 

I didn’t respond, only breathed in through the mouth and out through the nose.

 

“Is that you, Yuri?”

 

I said nothing.

 

“It _is_ you, isn’t it?”

 

“Can I speak to my mum?” my voice was raspy from the crying.

 

“She doesn’t wanna speak to you,”

 

I hung up. The remainder of tears still clinging to my eyes. Defeated.

 

I found somewhere to sit, and got out the thing I knew would be in the right inside pocket of my jacket. The most recent card from my dad, for my seventeenth birthday. It was pink, sparkly and totally _not me_ but I couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t seen me in years after all. This one was different though, because inside was a yellow post note, with an address, along with a picture of him holding me as a baby. An address I knew could only mean one thing, _he wanted to see me_. On this journey, it was the thing that had kept me going so far.

 

With that thought in my head, I made my way back to the room, that _porn_ still playing on the television. We were both uncomfortable, it felt like.

 

His awkward voice asked, “can I turn it off?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Back in the silence, I was reminded of the thoughts that were swirling around in my brain.

 

“I can’t go home. Like, ever,” I stated, “you can.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

For some reason that made me almost happy. I had to ask.

 

“Do you want _me_?”

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“Do you want me, or do you just go along with things?”

“I want you.” he replied.

 

“I’m gonna go to my Dad’s. You can come if you want.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning his head to me.

 

I was reminded of how _tired_ I really was, and turned on my side, away from him to sleep, looking at the tacky wallpaper on the hotel wall. I felt small. I felt alone.

 

“Otabek?” I asked quietly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Will you cuddle me?”

 

It took a few seconds, but I felt his warmth along my back. He tucked me against his chest, face against my neck, his scarred hand falling over my waist and the other holding onto my shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently into my skin. Like this, he felt familiar. _We_ felt familiar. It was nice, I was comfortable and for once I felt _safe_. Which I had not felt in a while, but all of a sudden this boy I had met only a few days ago was giving to me.

 

I fell asleep quickly in his embrace.


End file.
